


A Venom Dripping In Your Mouth

by geralt_of_rivia



Series: this could be perfection [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Still a Witcher, Getting Together, M/M, Only a brief mention of Valdo lol, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, Sirens, Smut, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23167201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralt_of_rivia/pseuds/geralt_of_rivia
Summary: Still he fought back, hands wrapping around a scaled neck. The creature wore no clothes, but he could see it had the same anatomy as Jaskier had. Webbed hands and feet, scales covering pale flesh. They weren’t the beautiful blue, however, but rather the color of old blood. He moved to grab for the potion in his pocket to make up for the water he had taken into his lungs- but the vial was gone. It had to have slipped out when he’d been pulled under.Just as sharp teeth snapped inches from his face, Geralt was crashed into from the side. Knocked away from the rusty scales and black eyes.“Stop,” a voice snarled- yet, it wasn’t muffled by the water that filled Geralt’s ears. “This one is mine.”orGeralt can't get the siren Jaskier out of his head. He definitely doesnotgo looking for him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: this could be perfection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661440
Comments: 27
Kudos: 552





	A Venom Dripping In Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> AYE so I'm back with a part two lol. These two just can't seem to stay away from each other ;) that being said ! This fic is a second part to a previous fic!! It might be a little confusing if you haven’t read it

Hands, scaled but smooth, stroked his cheek. The sun was warm on his face, but water was cool on his bare skin. Soft lips were at his neck, and waves created around him and the being that curled into his embrace. They were out in open water, land nowhere in sight, but Geralt didn’t  _ care _ . He’d let himself be pulled down into the depths if it meant he kept the blue eyed creature in his grip, kept the gentle touch and salt dampened hair against his jaw. 

“Dreaming of me again, I see,” Jaskier chuckled. “I should make things more pleasant for you, then.” 

Webbed fingers snaked below the surface of the water, finding bare flesh, hard and waiting where it was pressed to Geralt’s torso. 

But a wave crashed over their heads, Jaskier slipped from his grip, and Geralt shot up on a straw mattress of an inn. There was no more sun, no more salt, and certainly no more blue eyes. He dragged his calloused hands over his face and struggled to bring himself back to reality. It had been two  _ months  _ of dreams of blue eyes and shimmering skin, never the nightmares that generally plagued him. And yet it was driving him  _ mad.  _

A warm body was curled on the mattress beside him, some woman Geralt couldn’t remember the name of. He gave a low grunt and shifted himself off the bed. He still had a contract to complete, and he certainly didn’t want to be around for his bedded companion to wake. 

He was a master at dressing in stealth, gathering his packs and slipping from inns as if he had never been there at all. Roach would be waiting in the stable for him anyway, and they needed to set off for the coast before the day grew any older. It was nearly already just after dawn, and he would need to be at the coast by dusk. 

It was another contract involving an unknown water creature, fishermen were vanishing the town mage had said. The mage had informed him that a fisherman would be waiting to tell him more and allow him a ride out to where people were disappearing. Part of Geralt  _ hoped _ …

It wasn’t the bog, however. Geralt had returned to it  _ twice _ , but only found muddy water and mosquitos. Jaskier was gone, and all Geralt was left with was  _ dreaming.  _

He  _ wasn’t  _ searching for Jaskier. If he had snatched up any and every contract involving a water creature, it had nothing to do with the blue eyed man with the lilting voice. And yet no matter how many people he laid with, man or woman, it never quite took the burning feeling of  _ drowning  _ from his chest. 

At the stables, Roach was impatiently waiting for Geralt, ignoring the hay in her stall in favor of a handful of flowers Geralt had snagged outside. 

“My apologies for making you wait for me,” Geralt chuckled to her, and she nibbled at his jacket with a snort. 

He brushed her down before loading his pack onto her to make up for it, and then led her out of the dusty stable and into the morning sun. He had packed some apples for the both of them to eat on the road, and with that they were setting off. 

The ride was long, and with the sweltering sun, Geralt let Roach pick their pace. Even so, they were nearing the coast by late afternoon. The smell of ripe fish grew heavier the closer they grew, and beyond green hills, Geralt could make out deeper blue meeting the light blue sky. A deep blue that reminded Geralt  _ so much  _ of scales over high cheekbones. 

He stopped just shy of a pier near a pasture to let Roach enjoy the grass and wildflowers. She wouldn’t wander far, and she’d be fine on her own while Geralt was off to finish the contract. He removed his pack, and then set off the final stretch on foot. 

At the pier, fishing boats were coming in from a day out, and several fisherman were already dumping their catch into barrels on the docks. Most of the men around ignored him, and others that  _ did  _ pay him mind quickly averted their gaze. There was no doubting what Geralt was, what with his dark armor, white hair, and the pair of swords resting on his back. 

However, the fisherman he was to meet with had been informed of him arriving, and it didn’t take long before a red haired man in a pair of dirty overalls approached him. 

“Geralt of Rivia, eh? The Witcher?” the man asked. 

“Hmm,” Geralt nodded, stopping just shy from the bustle of men unloading their boats. 

“I’m Taft. The mage Eullece of Benek told me you’d be a comin’ to take care of the bastard takin’ our fishermen.” 

“That’s my intent, yes,” Geralt replied. “But I haven’t exactly been given much info to go off of. To what extent are these men being ‘taken’?” 

“Men go out fishing’, o’ course. They get out to their spots far out from the shore, an’ that’s usually when the singin’ starts.”

Geralt’s generally slow heart beat just a  _ fraction  _ faster. “The singing.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Taft nodded solemnly, “You must know where this is goin’. The men fall under some sort of trance, they’ll walk right into the deepest waters after that voice. And then they vanish. A buddy of mine saw the creature with his own eyes- an ugly thing, he said. Scaly.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt furrowed his brow.  _ Ugly  _ wasn’t what he had been hoping for. No such description could befall what he had encountered in the bog. Even without the glamour,  _ Jaskier  _ had been… vastly alluring. “Lend me your boat.” 

Taft scoffed at that, “I don’t have a boat to lend. I can take ye out there myself, but I’m not lending you my boat.” 

“The singing isn’t going to work on me,” Geralt explained. “I’ll return your boat, but I’m going alone.”

“No deal. We can find ourselves another hunter, then.”

Geralt could have simply shrugged it off and left.  _ Would  _ have, had the situation been different. But the promise of a  _ voice _ and deep blue water- the chance to come across the creature appearing in his dreams- he couldn’t walk away from that. 

“If you have a death wish, then fine,” he huffed. “You can come along to navigate the boat. But no one else is to attend, you’re to stay out of my way, and you’re to do as I tell you unless you wish to vanish into the sea like the others.” 

Taft shifted a little nervously, but with a jerk of his head he beckoned Geralt to follow him. 

The boat of Taft’s was one of the smaller fishing boats. Certainly not a ship by any means, and probably only held a crew of twelve or so men. Still, Taft knew his way around his ship better than Geralt would have, and with the sun sinking lower in the sky with every passing minute, it was better that Taft got them out into open water. Being out at dark wouldn’t work well in Geralt’s favor. 

Taft thankfully wasn’t a chatty man, and Geralt was free to roam about the boat and take in the water around them as the fisherman guided them out away from the pier and away from the shore. 

“Evening is best for this,” Taft informed them as he guided the sails with the sea breeze. “Not for sailing, but to catch this damned singing beast. From the tales I’ve heard, near dusk is when it feeds.” 

To be safe, Geralt took the time to ready his swords and pack. He tucked a vial into his front breast pocket to use if he were to fall into water. It’d give him a bit more of a chance, allow him to go without oxygen for a bit if he were to slip under the waves. 

When the pier was just a speck in the distance and the sun was turning blue waters golden, Taft lowered the sails and slowed the boat. The man was eyeing Geralt wearily, and Geralt simply dug in his pack to find a wad of cotton. He tossed it Taft’s way, “Put this in your ears. It might not do much, but it’ll help block out any sort of lure the creature might use.” 

Taft nodded graciously, “Thank you, Witcher. Now we wait.” 

And wait they did. Geralt settled himself at the front of the boat, gazing out at the open water and listening for any sort of song, listened for a warm lilting voice that he couldn’t have forgotten about if he tried. 

The sun was already dipping below the horizon when Taft, who had been sitting near the mast and seemingly dozing, jolted up, “There! Do you hear it?!”

Geralt’s gaze snapped to him. His senses were far higher than a human’s, and yet all he could hear was the lapping of waves against the hull. 

“You were asleep. Dreaming, perhaps-” he began, but Taft had stood and was wandering toward the edge of the boat. Geralt was on his feet in an instant, clearing the distance between them and hauling Taft away from the edge by the collar. “I said to put the cotton in your ears, what the hell are you doing?”

Taft’s eyes were wide and glazed, but he didn’t fight Geralt’s grip, “It’s… I just want t’ see it… that voice…”

But then, Geralt could hear it. It wasn’t the voice he remembered at all, and unlike before, where the unknown presence emitted little hostility,  _ this  _ voice had his skin prickling. It was deep, but sharp, and the hum of it was  _ dangerous.  _ Geralt seized Taft’s hands and forced them over his ears, “ _ Stay.”  _

Thankfully the man listened, nodding his head and clenching his eyes shut. Geralt prowled around the ship’s edge, eyes searching the depths for any sort of glimpse of the voice’s owner. The voice seemed to come from  _ all _ directions. Not any sort of lyrical song, but a haunting tune that Geralt needed to put a  _ stop  _ to. 

The voice grew louder, seemed to be emitting from the back of the boat, and Geralt stalked his way over to peer over the side. Beneath the deep blue, he could make out a shape- something was approaching the top of the water. His hand lingered back for his sword. 

And then a hand with rust colored scales shot from the water and seized Geralt by the front of his shirt. He grabbed the arm in return, yanking it with all his might, and still- he was pulled over the side of the boat. The sharp bite of cold water hit him immediately, and he twisted the arm still in his grip as he unsheathed his sword amongst the bubbles around him. But just like that, the hand released him and he splashed up toward the surface. 

Only… to be yanked back down by his ankles. The salty water didn’t burn his eyes as it would a human, and as he kicked out and stabbed down with his sword, he came face to face with short dark hair and a sharp face. It’s eyes were black, it’s lips curled into a predatory sneer. The creature was  _ fast _ , but he was still faster as he swung out and caught the creature on the shoulder. It was certainly no longer singing, but rather  _ screeching _ in anger. 

His sword was knocked from his hands, sharp teeth sinking into his forearm as the creature yanked him further down into the depths. He had been too distracted, too hopeful for blue eyes and wavy brown hair. Distractions were how Witchers were  _ killed.  _

Still he fought back, hands wrapping around a scaled neck. The creature wore no clothes, but he could see it had the same anatomy as Jaskier had. Webbed hands and feet, scales covering pale flesh. They weren’t the beautiful blue, however, but rather the color of old blood. He moved to grab for the potion in his pocket to make up for the water he had taken into his lungs- but the vile was  _ gone.  _ It had to have slipped out when he’d been pulled under. 

Just as sharp teeth snapped inches from his face, Geralt was crashed into from the side. Knocked  _ away  _ from the rusty scales and black eyes. 

“ _ Stop _ ,” a voice snarled- yet, it wasn’t muffled by the water that filled Geralt’s ears. “This one is mine.” 

Gentle webbed hands were curled around Geralt’s arm, and Geralt was prepared to snap the bones of the arms until he was allowed a closer look at the scales in the dark waters.  _ Blue.  _

“I found it  _ first,”  _ the second voice was grating, and the rust colored creature darted at Geralt from the side. A sword,  _ Geralt’s  _ sword, was shoved into his hands by blue webbed fingers. 

“I’ll let him take your head off, Valdo, and then I’ll take the sword back and stab you  _ myself  _ if you don’t  _ fuck off,”  _ that voice… it was the voice Geralt had been hearing in his dreams. 

Geralt’s chest was already burning from being beneath the surface, his vision starting to blur, and he vaguely thought that perhaps he was only imagining the familiar voice. The other siren was stocky, scarred up its chest, and without clothing Geralt could see it was definitely male, it’s lower anatomy between its thighs like that of a human’s. Still, it didn’t try to approach Geralt. The other creature behind him, holding him from being pulled down further seemingly keeping the man at bay. And, of course, Geralt still clutched his sword out in front of him. 

“You’re a  _ pitiful  _ excuse for a siren, Jaskier,” the creature snarled. “If you want this one, fine. I’ll find easier food and let this witcher run you through with its sword. It probably would taste bitter anyway.” 

At that, the siren that had been behind him gently bumped his sword out of the way and moved in front of Geralt protectively. Wispy brown hair moved, slender shoulders, and a pale blue torso were the last thing Geralt saw before his blurring vision finally went dark. 

☼

“Geralt,” hands were patting his face. “ _ Geralt of Rivia.” _

He let out a spluttering cough, knocking back the cool hands that touched him in favor of rolling on his side and choking up water onto the dark sands he’d been laid out upon. A beach, it seemed, lit only by moonlight, as the sun had long set. 

“Melitile’s bosom, I was afraid you’d drowned after all.” 

Geralt pushed himself up into a seated position and twisted to meet his rescuer. Jaskier kneeled on the sands next to him, looking incredibly human as he had the first time they’d met. There were no scales, webbed hands, or fins, but even in the moonlight Geralt soaked in worried  _ blue  _ eyes and damp, rich chocolate hair. 

“Jaskier…” he rasped, his throat raw and chest still heavy. 

The siren’s face broke into a smile, but it wasn’t predatory or lustful; rather, it was relieved- warm like summer waters, glistening like the sun on waves, “You remember me, then.” 

Jaskier all but crawled  _ very much naked _ onto Geralt then, cupping his face in soft hands. Geralt hummed, wrapping his arms around the slender torso and  _ holding _ , trying to ground himself to reality. If he was dreaming again… or perhaps  _ dead _ after all-

“You’ve made it impossible to forget you- in my  _ dreams,  _ you- you’ve been there since we met,” Geralt breathed out. “I looked for you. I needed to see again that you were  _ real.”  _

Lips pressed a playful kiss to Geralt’s nose, “Very much real, and  _ very  _ much flattered that my attempts to woo you had such an effect on  _ you,  _ a witcher.” 

Much to Geralt’s dismay, Jaskier unstraddled his lap. He did, however, tuck wet hair behind Geralt’s ear and place himself cross-legged in front of Geralt. With whatever glamor Jaskier used, he was a sight to behold. He was smooth aside from his chest, covered in a thick fuzz. The siren even had a navel and a trail of fine hair that led to a bed of curly hair around his cock. 

“You left the bog,” Geralt accused. 

Jaskier snorted at that, “When a man with two swords threatens you, generally you do what you’re told. Even if you really wanted to stick around to ride his dick and feast on his arousal. You do look very tasty, but I liked you alive and didn’t want the temptation to, ahem,  _ arise _ .” 

Very rarely was Geralt caught off guard, but Jaskier had yet to fail to leave him  _ reeling.  _ But still, the realization of  _ why  _ he had ventured out to sea struck him, “You moved, but you didn’t stop drowning fishermen. I told you to do that as well.” 

“You’re wrong there,” Jaskier frowned. “I can feed solely on lust and sex, I don’t have to eat flesh. Now, the fucker  _ Valdo Marx  _ that just tried to  _ eat  _ you. He likes both, I guess. I’d rather eat you in other ways that don’t involve your death.” 

Geralt was nearly distracted by Jaskier’s implemations, but at the mention of the other siren he jerked to attention, “I was with a human- on the boat, is he safe? That other siren didn’t take him?” 

Jaskier’s expression quickly soured, “He’s fine… why, what does he mean to you?”

The scent of  _ jealousy  _ was heavy in the air, and Geralt smirked, “What if I said he was my lover?” 

“Then I’d forget the fact that you just nearly died and suck your brain out through your cock so that all you could remember was  _ me.”  _

Geralt moved forward onto his haunches, taking Jaskier’s chin into his hands, “Is that a threat?” 

“A promise,” Jaskier purred, but he gently took Geralt’s hands in his own, bringing them down to his bare chest. “Honestly, though. Are you alright? I was too worried to give you back to that human. I wanted to make sure you were okay for myself.”

It caught Geralt by surprise. A creature he  _ hardly  _ knew, caring enough to worry over him. 

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse. But how are you- how long can you stay out of water?” he searched Jaskier’s face, glanced over his kneeling form. 

The siren smiled, “As long as it takes, handsome. Wait, shit, I’ll stop being seductive for a minute. I’m fine out of water as long as I’m well fed. But feeding off of lust only works if I’m in my true form.” 

“Yes, well… you should be careful,” Geralt murmured. “You’ve got to keep a lower profile. I’ve let you go once, but if men keep disappearing and another Witcher or hunter comes for you-”

“Then I drown them.” 

“ _ Not  _ what I was implying,” Geralt snorted. “Just don’t get yourself killed.” 

Jaskier laughed in the lilting way he did, like soft waves and ocean breeze, “Well, after our first encounter, just the arousal coming off of  _ you  _ was enough to keep me full for  _ weeks.” _

“You fed off of  _ me?”  _ Geralt accused, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it. 

“Yes, you’re delicious in more ways than one,” Jaskier leaned in, skimmed his nose over Geralt’s jaw. “I’d love to  _ really  _ make you desire me.” 

Almost immediately Geralt curled his arms around Jaskier’s waist, pulled him in and breathed in his ocean sweet smell. He touched Jaskier like he’d been doing it his whole  _ life _ , without hesitancy or nervousness. 

“I’ll let you,” he breathed against Jaskier’s hair, letting the man kiss down his neck. “I’ll let you feed off of me.” 

Jaskier groaned at that, biting just a little at Geralt’s collarbone, “C’mere, then.” 

Nimble hands flew to Geralt’s trousers, tugging them open and pulling them down. Geralt helped Jaskier get the wet clothing off of him, peeling them down his legs and tossing them into the sand next to- apparently his pack and swords, that Jaskier had kept safe for him. It was  _ foolish _ and  _ risky  _ to put so much trust into a creature he hardly knew, but blue eyes and soft skin had him  _ wanting _ . 

Without his pants, his cock was already hardening despite the chill of the air, and Jaskier practically tugged him to the water’s edge. And just like before, Geralt followed. Let Jaskier lead him out into the depths. The hand holding his formed webbing just as it had before, scales creeping over Jaskier’s arm and up his shoulder. Moonlight made Jaskier’s true form all the more  _ lovely,  _ blue and shimmering. However, the moment Geralt could no longer touch, Jaskier curled himself around the man. 

Their lips met in a kiss that hit Geralt hard- it wasn’t searing, but deep and rolling like a rip current. Geralt was hard, could feel that Jaskier was  _ just  _ as hard where the siren had pressed himself against Geralt’s hip, and he shifted just in the slightest to  _ press  _ into Jaskier’s arousal. Jaskier moaned high and lovey into Geralt’s mouth, his lips salty from the water. 

But still, the siren pulled back, his blue eyes hesitant, “Still alright, yes? The water isn’t too cold for you?” 

Geralt’s chest gave an odd clench at Jaskier’s concern, and he released his hold of Jaskier’s hips in favor of stroking the smooth blue scales of Jaskier’s cheekbones, “My mutations keep me from feeling the cold.” 

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Jaskier groaned, and then he was slipping from Geralt’s hands and under the water. 

The siren’s hands were still on him however, feeling down his chest and over his hips, and then lips were pressing to the head of his cock, and Geralt forgot to breathe. He dropped his hands under the water, not to tug, but just to feel feathery hair between his fingers, stroking rather than guiding. And yet of course, Jaskier was a tease. He tongued under the head, and Geralt couldn’t stop his hands from tightening around the soft, wet hair. 

He growled low in his chest, wishing that the dark water around them didn’t prevent him from  _ seeing  _ the vision just beneath the surface. And then without warning, Jaskier was swallowing him down. Geralt was swept under by his own pleasure, wave after wave positively battering him as a hot mouth worked around him, pulsing and absolutely  _ dragging  _ Geralt into the depths of wanting. 

Jaskier’s hands were pressed against the jut of Geralt’s hips, squeezing lightly as if to  _ encourage  _ Geralt to fuck his mouth. And yet Geralt still was at Jaskier’s mercy, could feel Jaskier  _ moaning  _ around him as the siren took him deep into his throat. Stamina had never been an issue for Geralt, but as Jaskier swallowed around him, had Geralt positively  _ dripping  _ into his mouth, Geralt’s climax was hurtling closer. 

“Jaskier _ \- ah _ !” Geralt cried out. “Your mouth-  _ fuck!” _

Geralt could hear as Jaskier  _ chuckled,  _ despite being beneath the water, and burrowed down to the  _ hilt.  _ The siren did something positively sinful with his tongue, pressed it flat as he sucked hard, and Geralt’s peak crested like a wave, crashed over him violently as he came down Jaskier’s throat. 

He was still shuddering, gripping Jaskier’s hair with trembling hands as he tugged Jaskier off- the siren was still lapping around his sensitive dick, and Geralt yanked him to the surface. Jaskier’s cheeks were somehow reddened under the blue scales, and he was panting just as hard as Geralt. Geralt had to  _ taste  _ him, and he crashed their lips together to lick into Jaskier’s mouth. He tasted of salt, and Geralt couldn’t be sure if it was from his own spend or simply from the water, but it was  _ divine.  _

He fumbled beneath the surface of the water, squeezing Jaskier’s hips, reaching for his cock- only to find it softening. Jaskier’s hips jerked into his touch, but Jaskier whined.

“ _ Ah _ , you don’t- I already-“ he panted into Geralt’s mouth. “You have a  _ fantastic  _ dick. Just having it in my throat was enough. I’m glad I don’t need much oxygen though because you’re fucking huge.” 

“You came,” Geralt huffed breathlessly, unsure if he was further turned on or disappointed that he didn’t get to feel Jaskier twitch in his hands. 

“Sucking you, yes,” Jaskier moved his face to Geralt’s neck. “Your arousal, your  _ cock _ \- all of you tastes so divine. I’ll sing about it until I die, I swear.” 

“I feel… I’ve never felt pleasure like that,” Geralt admitted. “I can always go more than once, but  _ that-“ _

Jaskier nodded, “Let’s get to where you can touch. It could be from me feeding off your arousal. It won’t hurt you, though. I promise I wouldn’t ever do anything that would.” 

The siren guided them back to shore, let the waves guide them back onto the sand. Geralt sprawled out on his back, regretting keeping his shirt on as it clung uncomfortably. Jaskier stayed curled against Geralt, however, clung tight as he peppered kisses across Geralt’s cheek. 

“Are you well fed?” Geralt chuckled. 

“You can’t even  _ imagine,”  _ Jaskier gave a breathless laugh. 

“Next time I want to  _ see  _ you.” 

However, Jaskier was pulling away at that, “Next time…” 

Geralt realized his mistake, had grown far too comfortable with the body he clutched to himself. It was only with a deep sigh that he let Jaskier sit up, watched the man inch back toward the water. 

“You’re going to disappear again,” Geralt murmured. 

“Well… I’ll have to feed again  _ eventually,”  _ Jaskier’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “But I can’t just- I’m a monster, am I not? I can’t  _ always  _ feed from you. I wouldn’t let myself. I won’t use you like that.” 

“Just as I shouldn’t let you,” Geralt pursed his lips. “Although, it’s tempting.” 

“I generally have that effect on people.” 

“Your lures don’t work on me,” Geralt reminded. “I was all willing.” 

Jaskier groaned, “Oh, I’m aware. I think that’s why your arousal tastes greater than anyone I’ve had. It’s genuine.” 

“I’d have you again, if you’d let me,” Geralt said mindlessly. He  _ shouldn’t-  _ he shouldn’t trust so easily, but something about ocean eyes and smooth scales had him taking that risk. 

But it was with a sad smile that Jaskier shook his head, “I think… I have to let you go.” 

“Let  _ me  _ go?” Geralt pressed. That wasn’t how things worked. Geralt was the hunter, not Jaskier, and yet he certainly felt caught up by the siren. 

Jaskier darted back forward to press a quick kiss to Geralt’s lips, “You are… perfection. I think I’ll be dreaming of  _ you  _ this time.”

But just like in Geralt’s dreams, Jaskier backed away before Geralt could press further. Was  _ leaving  _ though Geralt was still wanting. With the rush of a wave, Jaskier vanished from the shore, and Geralt was left sitting in the sand with only the salt taste of Jaskier on his tongue. And still, Geralt knew that if fate were to have it, he’d follow Jaskier into the depths once more. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Soooo will they meet again? WHO KNOWs, not me. Thanks for reading! Pls leave me a comment below, I need to know I'm not the only one who lives for a wanting Geralt and a tease Jaskier.


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